


Career Day

by Gray Cardinal (Gray_Cardinal)



Category: Doctor Who, NCIS, Sarah Jane Adventures
Genre: Gen, Rebel Yell series (Azar), remix-ineligible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-08
Updated: 2010-06-08
Packaged: 2017-10-10 00:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gray_Cardinal/pseuds/Gray%20Cardinal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Career Day winds down, Abby Sciuto meets a student who has some unusually interesting questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Career Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Azar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Trouble With Harry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55183) by [Azar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar/pseuds/Azar). 



> **Disclaimer:** _Doctor Who_ and the Whoniverse belong to the BBC and are the creations of storytellers too numerous to list. _NCIS_ is the creation of Donald Bellisario and belongs to Belisarius Productions and CBS. The "Rebel Yell" universe is the creation of Azar (aka ), who may not now recall having granted me permission to play in it (but she did!); I hope this story meets with her approval.
> 
> **Notes:** This takes place early in Season 7 of _NCIS_, and contains only very minor spoilers for the series as a whole. It also takes place roughly a year after the events of Azar's "The Trouble With Harry", and sometime in mid-Season 2 of – well, that would be telling. (I hope I've got the continuity more or less right here.)

Abby Sciuto was _tired_.  Dealing with high school kids for four hours straight took a lot of energy, and it had been more years than she liked to admit since she’d been their age.  But the Career Day program was one of her favorite volunteer gigs, and she was – big surprise – invariably one of the most popular presenters of the whole event.  Between the popularity of the _CSI_ TV franchise, her less-than-conventional looks, and the props she brought from the lab, any table she staffed was certain to draw a crowd.

Most years, of course, she and Ducky ran the table together, which made the gig much less strenuous.  Today, though, he’d been called in at the last minute for some sort of high-level briefing, and had regretfully left Abby to shoulder the operation alone.  Ducky had offered to loan her Palmer, but Abby had considered the idea for all of twenty-eight seconds and declined.  “Not a good idea,” she’d told him.  “It would be like dropping a salmon into a tankful of sharks.”

Now she was one of the last presenters left in the gym, and as she packed up her gear, she wished she’d managed to buttonhole the massage therapist who’d been stationed halfway across the room before he got away.  Her muscles definitely needed relaxing.

“Excuse me,” a girl’s voice said, chasing visions of massage out of her head.  “I was just wondering—”

Abby looked up.  The girl in question was just on the attractive side of ordinary, with dark hair and a trim build.  Her features reminded Abby just a little of Ziva, but she’d spoken with a light English accent.

“It’s okay, I don’t bite,” she told the girl.  “At least, not without informed consent.”

Her visitor giggled; she might be a bit nervous, but she didn’t look intimidated.  “Right.”

Abby slid a rack of test tubes into its travel case.  “So, you had a question.”

“Right,” the girl said again.  “I’d wondered – NCIS is part of your Navy, but surely you’re not—?”

Now Abby laughed.  “God, no.  Not that being in the Navy is bad, but it’s not like a prerequisite or anything.  Outside of my boss, nobody on my team is an actual military guy.  Or girl,” she added, “except I guess you’d sort of have to count Mossad.  But that was a special case.”

 “Mossad?”  The girl’s eyebrows went up.

“Mossad.  One of those cultural exchange things,” Abby said, “only it got complicated, and if I told you much more about that I’d have to kill you.  Which would be bad, so I’d better not.  But for jobs like mine, what you want is a science background.  I kind of did everything – chemistry, computers, psychology, the works – but it’s totally okay to focus more than I did.”

“Right.”  The girl frowned for a moment.  “Do you have to be an American citizen to join?”

Abby blinked.  “You know, I’m not sure.  You can’t be a full field agent unless you’re a citizen – Ziva’s working on that now – but for forensics people, you’d want to ask Ducky.  He’s our medical examiner, he’s from Scotland, and I don’t know if he’s ever switched over.  Legally, I mean.  He’s worked all over the world, and not just for us.”

The girl grinned.  “Can you tell me about that without having to kill me?”

“Some of it, I guess,” Abby said.  “I don’t know all the details, but he was a medic with the UN in a lot of places.  And – let’s see – for UNIT for a year or so, way back in the ‘70s.”

The girl’s eyebrows went up again.  “UNIT?”

“Unified Intelligence Task Force.  It used to be United Nations Intelligence Task Force, but I think it kind of – morphed in the last few years.  Only ‘intelligence’ is kind of the wrong name, because it’s not really a spy outfit.”

“Oh, I know,” the girl said.  “They’re about dealing with aliens – the real ones, not the science fiction kind.  Did your Ducky ever get to examine a real alien?”

“Not that I—wait a second,” Abby said, eyeing her visitor suspiciously.  “How much do you know about real aliens?”

The girl blinked, swallowed, and suddenly looked nervous again.  “Who, me?  How would I know anything about Slith—, um, real aliens?”

Abby grinned dangerously and twirled one of her pigtails.  “Slitheen?  Daleks?  Sontarans?  Any of those sound familiar?”

“Should they?”  The girl tried to sound firm, but clearly realized she’d given the game away.

“I think we both know the answer to that.,” Abby said.  “Now give.  You know about UNIT, and you’re from England – right?”  The girl nodded.  “I don’t suppose you’ve ever met Harry Sullivan?”

Her visitor’s eyes widened.  “No, but Sarah Jane has.”

Abby’s widened to match.  “As in Sarah Jane Smith?  The reporter?”

“She’s – she was my neighbor back in England.  We—”

Abby grinned, and set a finger to her lips.  “We _definitely_ have to talk – but not till I’ve got all this stuff loaded back in the van.  Want to help?”

“Sure,” the girl said, suddenly cheerful again.  “Oh, I’m Maria.  Maria Jackson.”  And at Abby’s direction, she picked up a boxful of equipment and followed her out of the gym.

#

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Pattern Analysis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4652196) by [Azar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar/pseuds/Azar)




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